


Paella and Chill

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "What are you doing sobbing on the couch and drinking wine like a bitch?"





	Paella and Chill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ItsADrizzit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsADrizzit/gifts).



Sergio was on his second bottle of Rioja wine when a knock on the door disturbed his pity party. He burrowed deeper into the couch and waited for the intruder to leave.

So of course the intruder just knocked louder. 

"¡Vete!" he shouted, not quite drunk but certainly belligerent. 

The next thing he knew, someone had scraped a key in Sergio's lock and was opening his door without his permission. And you know what? The fuck did he care. It was all meaningless anyway.

"What are you doing sobbing on the couch and drinking wine like a bitch?" Iker said. He strode in like he owned the place, pausing to put down a bag next to the door. Sergio had no plans to lift his head from the couch cushions and find out what was in it.

"I'm not sobbing, Iker. Now get out," he mumbled. 

"I brought dinner, for when you decide to stop being a brat," Iker called from across the flat. Sergio could hear him in the kitchen, cutlery scraping lightly across paper plates, could smell seafood and saffron and garlic.

"Paella? Really?" Sergio asked.

"Yeah," Iker said. "That way you'll remember why all of this started in the first place."

Iker walked back over to the sofa two plates in his hands, piled high with food. He placed it right over Sergio's face, with a biodegradable fork on top. Sergio acquiesed by coming out of his blanket fort to pick at the food in front of him, but said nothing. Iker, willing to risk Sergio's wrath, shoved his feet aside to make room for himself on the chaise.

The two ate in silence until Sergio asked quietly, "Is this all there is, Iker? For the next 30 years? Moving from one place to another, never feeling at home, being away from the people you love?"

"Nah," Iker said wryly. "You'll age out of football in five."

"You know what I mean."

"I do," Iker states. "You fucked up this season. You're bruised, physically and emotionally. Sleep on it before you move to Australia and open a farm to table patisserie."

"That makes no sense."

"Neither do you."

Later, they fall asleep, talking about nothing, episodes of trash TV on in the background. 

When Sergio wakes up, he finds a ring on his left hand a note on the table.

_How about this as your next 30 years? - IC_

**Author's Note:**

> Permission is given to transform this work in ways including, but not limited to: podfic, fic sequels, LEGO towers, fan art, fan vids, etc.


End file.
